


Hold You In My Arms

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Finale, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've been...Will...I've been mugged," her voice sounded sluggish and confused, and Will's blood turned cold. "I hit my head. I think I hit my head."</p><p>Post-finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm...not sure about this one. Well actually, it started with a line that popped into my head (which isn't even in this chapter) and then sort of built from there. And then it grew into this behemoth and I decided to split it into two chapters. The second chapter is started, so it shouldn't take too long. But anyway, let me know your thoughts. I have a feeling it got a little melodramatic, but I'm only partly sorry about that. Also, the title comes from the Ray LaMontagne song. And yeah. Enjoy!

 

 

It began with Sloan teasing MacKenzie that she and Will were joined at the hip.

"You're like an old, married couple now," Sloan complained, but with a slight smirk so that Mac would know she was teasing, mostly.

"We _are_ an old, married couple now," Mac shot back. She twisted her new wedding ring around her finger as she said this, allowing a smile to drift across her face. "Besides, isn't Don keeping you busy enough?" She smirked back at Sloan, who had her own soft smile on her face.

"I miss my best friend," Sloan whined, dropping heavily into the chair across from Mac. "Come on, you can leave your husband for _one night_ to come have a couple of glasses of wine with me and complain about our significant others." _Husband_ , Mac thought. What an odd, wonderful word.

"Okay," Mac agreed. "How about after the show on Friday? We can try that new wine bar down the street?"

"Great!" Sloan beamed, and she stood, wiping her hands on her skirt as she smiled at Mac. "It's going to be great, Kenz. Just the girls and some wine. What more could you need from a Friday night?" Mac was already turning her attention back to work, but she hummed her agreement as Sloan left her office with a small wave.

* * *

  
On Friday night, Mac slipped into her husband's office just as he was finishing changing.

"You leaving soon?" Will asked, hanging up the suit and placing it on the back of his bathroom door.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet Sloan down in the lobby in five minutes, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I went," Mac answered. She crossed over to him and placed both hands on his chest, leaning in to give him a kiss.

"Have fun," he told her between kisses.

"I won't be too late," she promised.

"Don't worry about it, have fun with Sloan," Will said, pulling away, but keeping hold of her hand as he reached behind him to grab a cigarette.

  
"You don't have to wait up for me," she offered, but Will just quirked an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes slightly.

"I'm looking forward to having the apartment to myself," he told her. "I'm going to watch Sports Center and smoke cigars. No ball and chain to yell at me for having the television too loud, or about how much cigars stink."

"You will not smoke cigars. At least, not inside the apartment, you won't," Mac warned. "Or else you're going to have a long, sad weekend sleeping alone on the couch." He grinned at her.

"I'll see you at home," he said, and she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze as she pulled away. _Home._

"I'll see you at home," she repeated, and waved over her shoulder as she went out to meet Sloan.

* * *

  
Will had drifted asleep on the couch when the phone rang. He jerked awake, rubbing his hand over his face and groping for his phone. A number he didn't recognize was on the display, and he frowned for a moment, hitting the button to answer.

"Hello?"

"Will?" It was MacKenzie. It was MacKenzie and she sounded strange. Will felt his stomach turn.

"Mac? Honey? What phone are you calling from?" He asked. 

"I've been...Will...I've been mugged," her voice sounded sluggish and confused, and Will's blood turned cold. "I hit my head. I think I hit my head."

" _What_?" Will sat straight up, suddenly wide awake. "MacKenzie, where are you? Right now? Where are you? Did you call the police?"

"No, I called you," she answered. "I have to sit down. I'm going to sit down." Will ran a frustrated hand through his hair, as he stood and went to grab his wallet and shoes.

"Call the police, where's Sloan? Where are you? Call the police and then call me right back, Mac? Call the police and _call me right fucking back_ ," he insisted. His thoughts were scattered and frantic.

"Okay," Mac's voice sounded slightly clearer. "Police." The phone disconnected and Will stood helplessly, his shoes in his hands. She hadn't told him where she was. Fuck.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He tugged on his shoes and grabbed a coat and his keys and headed out the door anyway, deciding to at least head in the direction of the bar where she and Sloan were supposed to have drinks. He dialed Sloan's number as he went and she answered on the third ring.

"Will?"

"Where are you?" He demanded.

"I just got to Don's," Sloan replied. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"I don't..." Will let out a weary sigh. "I don't know yet. Mac just called, and she's...she said she's been mugged." Sloan gasped, and Will climbed into a waiting taxi.

"Jesus, Will, where is she?"  
   
"I don't know," Will felt slightly sick. "I don't...know fucking anything." His phone beeped, and he gave it a cursory glance, vaguely recognizing the number from before. "She's calling me back now, I have to go."

"Call me back, Will? _Will_ , call me back," Sloan insisted, and he hung up before replying.

"Mac?" He asked, he could hear the panic in his own voice and he tried to tamp down on his fear. That was the last thing she needed at the moment. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the wine bar, I went...I went back into the bar," she said. "The bartender called the police. He wanted to call an ambulance, but I said my husband was coming. You're coming, right?" _Oh for fuck's sake_ , he thought.

"Of _course_ I'm coming," Will answered, swallowing hard and leaning forward to give the cab driver the exact address. He felt himself flush with anger, _how could she even think_ , and pushed it aside. She was hurting and confused.

"Good," Mac mumbled. "Good."

"I'll stay on the phone, okay, sweetheart?" Will closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his forehead.

"Okay," she replied softly.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asked. They sped through the quiet streets, and Will had to bite back remarks to the driver to go fucking faster.

"I'm...my head is bleeding," she answered. _Christ_.

"Are you hurt other than that?" Will hated not knowing what was happening. Facts he knew how to deal with. Fact: Mac was mugged. Fact: her head was bleeding. Fact: he was freaking the fuck out.

"No, no I don't think so," she replied, and then, in a rush, "he had a knife. And he took my ring." Will felt shaky and cold, something heavy and awful sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"We can get you a new ring, honey," Will felt bile rise up in his throat.

"It's insured, right?" Mac sounded worried. "I thought it was insured."

"It's insured," he reassured her. "Don't worry about the ring."

"I'm sorry, I loved that ring, you _know_ I loved that ring," Mac continued. He could practically see her eyebrows sloping into a frown, and his free hand clenched into a fist on his thigh.

"Don't worry about the fucking ring, Mac," Will huffed. He glanced out the window and spotted the bar. "I'm pulling up now." He threw money at the driver, asking him to stay there for a few minutes, and jumped out. He bounded into the bar, and found Mac sitting on a stool at the end, her body slumped over, one hand holding a towel pressed to the back of her head, and the other holding her phone to her ear. She looked over at the sound of Will calling her name, and her eyes filled with tears. She tumbled off the stool and into his arms, her phone clattering to the ground as he pulled her close.

"Will," she breathed out, her voice broken, and he shushed her, brushing a kiss to her hairline.

"It's okay, honey, it's okay. You're okay. I'm here. We have to get you to the hospital," he said softly, and she nodded against his chest.

"The police...they're going...the police are going to meet us there," she told him, pulling back slightly. She had a dazed look in her eyes, but she seemed at least a little lucid and coherent. She pulled her hand away from her head and winced. The towel was covered in blood and Will swallowed hard. As if she could see where his mind was going, her hand darted out and grabbed his. "Head wounds bleed a lot, Will." He nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. Will reached down to pick up her phone, then leaned over to thank the bartender, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her outside to where the cab was still idling. He opened the door for her and she slid in first. When he climbed in next to her, he tugged her close and took the towel out of her hand and held it there for her instead. She hissed at the pressure, and dropped her head down to his shoulder.

The ride was silent, even though Will had a thousand questions about what had happened.

_He had a knife._

The emergency room was fairly empty for the most part, and she was taken back almost immediately to get her head looked at and sutured up. Will stepped out of the room when they took her to get a CT scan and he took the opportunity to call Sloan back.

"Will," she answered on the first ring.

"We're at New York Pres," he sighed. "She's getting a CT scan now."

"What happened?" Sloan asked.

"I don't know yet, the police are here to take her statement," Will answered.

"We left the bar at the same time," Sloan explained. "She gave me the first cab, but she was going to get in a cab right after me. I should have waited for her to get...we could have shared the cab."

"You were going in opposite directions, Sloan," Will said gently.

"No, I _know_ that," Sloan huffed. "I just feel, I don't know, fuck, helpless."

"Welcome to the club," Will muttered.

"You'll keep me updated?" Sloan asked. "Or should I come down there? I could come down there."

"It's late," Will pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're just going to finish up here and then I'm going to take her home. Why don't you just go to sleep? She'll call you tomorrow."

"William McAvoy," Sloan's voice held a hard edge. "You think I'm going to be able to _sleep_? You'll call me, _tonight_ , and let me know she's okay."

"Yeah, okay, yeah," he nodded a couple of times. He hung up and hurried back to Mac's exam room, dropping onto the stool next to her and reaching out to take her hand.

"I've got a pretty decent concussion, so that's something fun," she reported, and gave him a crooked smile.  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. There was a soft knock at the door and a cop stepped inside.

"Mrs. McAvoy?" Will startled at the sound of Mac's married name. He still wasn't used to it yet. She had kept McHale for professional purposes, but she had legally changed her name to McAvoy.

"It's important to you, right?" She had asked, and he had confessed that yes, as old-fashioned as it was, he wanted her to be a McAvoy.

"I thought you'd want to keep McHale," he admitted, and she shrugged with a small smile.

"I've loved being a McHale," she told him. "But I'm also really looking forward to being a McAvoy." She had kissed the surprise right off of his face.

The cop stood at the end of the bed, asking MacKenzie gently what happened after she had left the bar.

"Sloan got into the cab," Mac had a frown on her face as she thought hard. "I was trying to snag another cab when I felt someone grab my arm. There was no one else on the street, and he pushed me back against the wall. That's when...that's when I hit my head." Her hand fluttered up to her head, and Will intercepted it, giving it a squeeze. "He had a knife." She took a deep breath. "He held it to my neck. His hand was shaking. He seemed...he almost seemed more scared than I was. That made me more nervous, I think. And he demanded that I give him my purse and all my jewelry."

"And you complied?" The officer asked, and Mac jerked her head a couple of times, biting her lip.

"Of course," she gave a small shrug, and Will was relieved to see that she looked clearer than she had when he first arrived at the bar. She also appeared a hell of a lot more calm than he was at the moment. He couldn't quite get the image of her, a knife up to her neck, dislodged from his head. His jaw was clenched so tight that it was starting to ache. "And then he pushed me up against the wall one more time, and then ran," she finished. "He was young...he was so... _young_." Young and stupid and scared, Will thought. A lethal combination. The officer finished up the interviewing, thanking Mac and Will for their time, and promising he would do everything in his power to get her belongings back to her. Will wasn't holding his breath. If the kid had any brains at all, Will thought, he would have gotten rid of the ring immediately, made a quick buck on it.

The nurse came back in, giving MacKenzie something for the pain, and while they waited for Mac to be discharged, Will could tell the exact moment the pain killers kicked in. Mac had always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol or any sort of prescription drugs. Her eyes began to close and she had a drowsy, warm smile on her face.

"Thank you for coming to get me," her words came out slightly garbled and slurred.

"I'll always come to get you," he replied, his response immediate and firm. She nodded, blinking a few times, and then biting down hard on her lip.

"He was so young, Billy," her voice just above a whisper. "He was so _young_ and so _scared_. I kept thinking what if he panics and does something stupid?" Will raised an eyebrow at that, and Mac shook her head. "I guess, something _else_ stupid. I handed everything over immediately, I just kept saying, 'take it, here take it. It's fine, just take it.'" Her face crumpled and she began to cry, and Will gathered her into his arms, running a soothing hand over her back. "He was so young. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. _Jesus_ , Will, I remember what I was doing at fifteen, and it's..." she trailed off, unsure, exhausted, her head pounding. Will wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't say anything, just pulled her closer to him, his heart still thumping wildly in his chest at the thought of how badly things could have gone.

 But they hadn't, and Will couldn't help but think that had to do with MacKenzie herself, her ability to stay calm and rational, hand over her bag and her ring, even with her head bashed against the brick of the building behind her and her pulse racing with fear and adrenaline. He could almost imagine her soft voice telling the kid, _take it, just take it_ , as her head felt fuzzy and ached. He shivered, needing to tug her even closer to him, as he carded his fingers through her hair.

"Just rest, sweetheart," Will soothed. "Just rest."


	2. It's my worried mind that you quiet

Mac rested heavily on Will as they made their way into the apartment. Her head was pounding, and the pain killers were starting to wear off. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and never get back out. 

"God, tonight sucked," Mac breathed out. Will grunted his agreement. "It's not an experience I'll be willing to repeat."

  
"This cannot happen again," Will insisted, his voice firm.  "I can make some calls. I'm sure there's someone Lonny can suggest." Mac looked at him, her mouth agape slightly.

"You're not serious. Don't you think that's an overreaction? It's just a concussion."

"It's not _just_ a concussion. You were attacked tonight, MacKenzie. He had a fucking knife to your throat."

"And I've had a knife _in_ my stomach," Mac countered. "I'm sorry you were scared tonight, but you need to take a step back and behave rationally here. I was mugged, Will. It happens all the damn time in this city."

"And it won't happen to you again, I won't let it," Will replied hotly. He knew that he was being irrational, but he was exhausted and still shaken from her phone call and watching as his wife's head was stitched up, and part of him was itching for a fight. Itching to feel something other than the terror that had been racing through his system since she had called him hours ago. Mac wheeled on him, her face flushed with anger.

"Are you kidding me? _You won't let it?_ " Mac cried. He knew she was going to be angry with him for that, but there was a fury in her eyes that he hadn't expected. "I didn't realize it was 18 fucking 92. I'm not a child, Will, I've kept myself alive this long without your help, thank you very much. What happened tonight was an aberration, and could have happened to anyone," she argued, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"It didn't happen to anyone!" He shouted. "It happened to _you_. And that's fucking unacceptable!" He breathed out heavily, his head dropping to his chest. She softened, moving towards him.

"Will," she said softly. "I know you were scared tonight, but I'm okay. I can take care of myself, I promise."

"I know," Will slumped down onto the couch. "I know you can. You just...you need to be careful," Will's voice was just shy of pleading, and Mac's eyes widened and she sat down next to him.

"I _am_ careful," she replied, which they both knew to be somewhat of a lie. Mac plowed through life, throwing herself forward. It was not as if she didn't think about the consequences, because for the most part she was aware of them, it was just that most times the consequences weren't enough to hold her back. Will had always said it was because of her idealism, but since they had broken up the first time, he secretly thought that it was maybe because she thought she deserved whatever was coming. And that, he also knew, was partly his fault, because he allowed her to think that she was expected to pay penance for an indefinable time. Until _he_ decided that she was forgiven.

"No," Will said firmly. "You don't understand. I _need_ you to be careful. I need you to be okay." Mac placed her hands on his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"I'll be _more_ careful, okay?" She promised. "I swear, I'll be more careful. And I'm fine, I am, I have a hard head." Will gave out a bark of laughter, turning his head slightly in her hands to press a kiss to her palm.

"That is true," he conceded. "I've been saying that for years." She hit him lightly on the arm, and then tipped her head forward so that it rested on his shoulder. He dropped a light kiss into her hair. "You scared the shit out of me tonight," he repeated, but his voice sounded less terrified than it had been the first time he told her that. She nodded against his shoulder, bringing her hands to his chest and twisting the fabric of his sweater between her fingers.

"I scared the shit out of myself," she admitted, and she shivered thinking about the knife in the trembling hands of a kid that was too young, too scared to be doing what he was doing. Will tightened his hold on her, trying to push out the sound of her voice, shaken, confused, and scared, out of his head.

_I've been...Will...I've been mugged. I hit my head. I think I hit my head._

He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping tonight, or maybe even for the next few nights, Mac's voice bouncing around his head.

_I've been...Will...I've been mugged_.

Jesus. He didn't, he couldn't, think about how the night could have gone terribly wrong. The fact that she walked away with nothing more than a concussion and some bruises was a miracle. It was enough to make him want to drop to his knees and thank whatever deity had done that, had kept her safe, for keeping her safe, keeping her here with him.

"You should get some sleep," he finally murmured into her hair. He felt her head nod, and she let out a shuddering sigh.

"He was so young, Will," she said softly.

"You really should get some sleep," Will repeated.

They sat for a minute, silently, until Will's phone began to ring. Mac gave him a quizzical look and he swore softly under his breath.

"Sloan," he sighed. Without loosening his grip on his wife, he reached for the phone and hit the answer button, bracing himself.

"I said call me back _tonight_ , Will. She's my best friend. McAvoy, you asshole, when you call me and tell me she's been attacked, you better fucking call me back and tell me everything's okay. I said _tonight_ ," Sloan yelled. Mac couldn't help the grin that tugged at her lips, and she buried her head in Will's shoulder to muffle her laughter.

"Everything's okay," Will reported.

"I don't believe you. Is she there? Is she awake?" Without saying anything else, Will handed over the phone to Mac.

"Hi, Sloan," Mac answered. "I'm okay."

"We'll share the cab next time, okay?" was the first thing Sloan said, and then, "I'm so sorry."

"This is in no way your fault," Mac assured. "But yeah, okay, we'll share the cab next time."

"Good," Sloan said. There was a long pause, before Mac sighed.

"I'm really okay," she promised. "I've survived worse." Will knew that to be true because he was the one that held her after a particular news story hit too close to home and she woke up in the middle of the night with nightmares. She always said that he had the tougher life, and he could see how that could be true about their childhoods, but Mac had lived through more, _seen_ more things, than Will could even imagine. In his fear, he had forgotten how tough she was. She had called him to come get her from the bar because she _wanted_ him, not because she _needed_ him.

Mac finished up the phone call and slid the phone onto the coffee table.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "You're right, I was overreacting."

"You were," she agreed easily.

"I just...you are so important."

"I know," she tucked her head into the crook of his neck and pressed a kiss to his pulse point. "I _know,_ Will. And I'd be the same if this had happened to you. But I'm okay. Honestly. I'm just tired and my head fucking hurts, and I just really want to crawl into bed next to my husband and forget all about tonight." She ran her hand down his arm until she linked her fingers through his.

"I'll get you a new ring," he said suddenly. "I should have anyway, that ring was nothing but bad fucking news."

"I did love that ring," she told him. "I was more pissed about him taking my ring than anything else. And now I'm just annoyed that I'll have to order all new cards and God, go to the DMV. That place is hell. And I was just _there_. Couldn't he have done this before I went and changed my name? Fuck that guy. _Fuck_ him." Will began laughing, half hysterical, and Mac joined in until they were both laughing so hard that they were crying, their hands still tangled together.

"I love you, you know?" Will said when they calmed down. "And I'll always come get you, always." It had been bothering him, nagging in the back of his mind, since she had said it.

"I do know, and I know that too," Mac reassured. "And I'm okay."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I _am_ ," she said again. "Now, can we please go to bed? We can continue to freak out over this later, once we've both gotten a little more sleep."

"Right," Will agreed, climbing to his feet and offering his hand to tug her to hers.

"I love you, too," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder as they made their way down the hall. And he had no answer but to kiss the top of her head and lead her into the bedroom where his plan was to get into bed, pull her into his arms, and not get out for a long time. 


End file.
